Singed Snowdrops
by TheDarkFlygon
Summary: Iori is kind of a failure and he knows that. Someone doesn't agree with this idea. (Oneshot, implied pre-relationship)


It's with a pounding headache, shifting temperatures, sweat pearling down his bangs and ragged breathing that Iori realizes something: he's kind of a failure. A kind of a dull failure.

"Kind of", because he still has skills and talents for a wide variety of things. He's still good at accounting, at singing, at managing stuff here and there. "Dull", because there's nothing noteworthy about him compared to literally everyone else around him, because he can't surprise anyone from how _boring_ he is. "Failure", because that's what he is no matter what everyone says: he failed twice in a row. Someone like him shouldn't have forgotten to sing on stage, then collapsed during a live for the unit's fans. It soured the mood and killed their momentum back to fame, despite everyone's efforts. It's simply something he shouldn't have allowed to happen, no matter what. There's no excuse for it, that's it. How hard is it for everyone else around him to accept that?

Maybe they're doing that because his brother is here, fretting over him like he's always done. They shouldn't, to be honest: he's not worth it. He's not worth their care, their precious attention. They should give that to people who are actually worth it, like Mitsuki, like Nanase and his condition, like MEZZO" and their rocky beginnings. He shouldn't be at the centre of anyone's attention, right now, or ever in fact: there's always a point where he'll mess up and ruin everything for everyone because he wasn't capable of handling things correctly. That's it, that's the truth nobody wants to admit.

Not to mention, they're losing their time on him. He's never been a full piece of puzzle, merely a keystone that's not truly needed to keep the building up. He's no Atlas like he thought he was before yesterday's live; but Atlas wouldn't have made people worry for him over a thing as little as some insomnia-induced sleep deprivation. Atlas wouldn't have panicked on set and had his vision twirling and twirling around him because he was too stupid and incompetent to deal with things efficiently.

Atlas's shoulders never gave in, but his couldn't bear the weight of just an unit's co-management. He's a damn _failure_.

He's useless, right now. He's not allowed to leave his bed and help with anything. Maybe they have noticed he's a failure, after all: if he wasn't, they would allow him to participate in practice with them, their manager would have allowed him to speak with her about the management of the unit. They're in a time of crisis and, before, he'd have believed he was able to handle it flawlessly: but he isn't perfect. In fact, he's never been, he's always known that; yet it's easier to pretend that he is, easier to ignore all that he's failed before that live concert, before the live show on the Web.

He doesn't want to cry, since it'd be pointless to weep in silence while everyone around him shines like a bright star, while all he's ever been is a black hole mercilessly trapping the chances of anyone he's ever cared about to succeed in life, wasting their opportunities and destroying their hopes like a crushing machine whose jaw is uncontrollable. That's happened to his brother before, it's happening to IDOLiSH7 now, and that's _all his fault_.

Even then, Iori cries, because he's exhausted, because he's weak, because he's stuck here with his black clouds and cannot see a shooting star in the sky that is his bedroom's ceiling.

He doesn't want to worry anyone: really, he's just not worth it. He's not worth anyone's commotion. He simply doesn't want to be a burden to his friends, to the people he loves: his parents shouldn't be concerned about their son. His brother shouldn't be fretting about him when he could be working on his next show, their next song, the next step in the career he's finally gotten a chance to start. His unit mates shouldn't be thinking of him when they should focus on what's truly mattered: their future, their fans, their image, _their debut_.

The debut his inability to make things blossom to their true potential before withering away under his malevolent influence killed in the egg.

Iori cannot stop crying and it's an issue. He's not a kid anymore, he needs to handle his stuff correctly and not sob like a toddler whenever things don't go his way. It's all his fault anyway, so he better swallow his misery in soon and stop being such a weakling. He won't get anywhere in life if he does.

Nobody around him is ever going to need him, to want to stay with him if he keeps messing things up, if he keeps dragging the ones he wants to help in the mud, making them fall backward and fail in the end. That's a fact he cannot brush aside, a fact he cannot bring his overexerted mind to get over. He's broken, he's down the drain.

Someone like him doesn't deserve to share an unit as luminous as IDOLiSH7, doesn't deserve a brother like Mitsuki Izumi and doesn't deserve a manager as good and motivated as Takanashi Tsumugi. All he deserves is to be left behind until he can handle something right.

Which he'll never do, obviously. If he could, he'd have done that when it mattered and not messed up on stage twice in a row.

He's too caught up in his own pity party to hear the manager enter his room, after he assumed the soft knock on his door was only his elbow or knee hitting the wall or an edge of the bed.

"Iori?"

Her voice is soothing. Too much, in fact: here's one more thing he shouldn't be allowed to hear.

"Manager…?" His is rough around the edges and he wants to cough his lungs out so he not to speak anymore. He's rotting her ears by speaking to her anyway.

"Are you… are you alright, Iori?!"

She panics and climbs the ladder of his bed at an unbelievable speed and, until she's safely on his level, he's afraid she's going to slip every step of the way. He's not sure if his reflexes could catch her in case she'd fall. If he ever could, that is.

"I'm…" He hates lying. "…fine."

Tsumugi's face doesn't show anything that isn't doubt at what he's just told her. Should have seen it coming: he's a terrible liar on top of being a terrible idol with no capacity to react to happenings.

"Be honest, please. You're always so frank, Iori, I hate seeing you lie all of a sudden…" Her face changes drastically as soon as she focuses on his. "Wait, have you been crying all this time?! I should've noticed that earlier, please excuse me!"

She's about to get something from her pocket, but she stops midway through her gesture and instead looks on the side.

"…can I climb to you?"

"If you want, I guess…"

In a swift move, albeit not without almost falling, Tsumugi gets right on top of him, her legs by the sides of his chest. It's awkward, but it's amusing at the same time, so he retains a giggle in as not to look stupid or mocking. He doesn't deserve her light and warmth, of course he knows that; but that part of him that's always been craving for validation and attention caves into the touch.

She looks more like a nurse than a manager for a moment. She hands him her adorable embroidered handkerchief which smells like red bean paste to dry his ugly tears, he hesitates to use it, but she insists, "I mean it, please don't cry, Iori!". He can't refuse her much, not when she looks at him with these eyes, not when she knows better than him, so he delicately taps it against the water flowing down his cheeks. She presses a hand against her forehead, then his, exhales a sigh of relief when she realizes out loud that his fever has lowered.

When he's near her, without any exception, he feels like he's worth something – but it's a feeling still so _foreign_ to him. Maybe he's worth a lot in her eyes, but in his, he's still the scum of the earth abusing from her kindness and patience, and he wants to cry again at that. He doesn't deserve her, that's it. He doesn't deserve much, of course, but he _especially_ doesn't deserve her.

Still, her hand lands on his, and she smiles at him, like sun brushing a dead tree. He's crying in all the ugliness he could display, physically beaten by his own dark thoughts and trapped in the middle of wallowing in his misery when he should have been doing something to mend his errors and fix what he's broken. But they don't allow him to do that, so what's the point of this circus routine?

"I'm sure you feel bad about everything that's happened, Iori, but you need to understand it's not a big deal! We'd rather have you in good health than push you to the edge like you've done… You don't even know how much we've been worried for you!"

That's no pleasant to hear, but that's also not surprising to listen to her say. Her tone just makes it sound better than it is, that's it. That's… it. It's not like it could be true, right?

"But that's normal, isn't it? You worry about the people you care about. I've been worried every day of my life for you guys ever since I've met you, and it hurts me to see you in such a state… But I also can't tell you to recover quickly, because that's a thing that can take a long time. It's something you have to do alone, and we can only help you if you allow us to. So, if you need it, don't hesitate telling us, okay? We're your comrades, Iori."

She has a disappointed look on her face, biting nervously on her lip.

"So… Remember that, okay? We're here to support you. We don't hold anything against you, so don't isolate yourself, I beg of you…!"

She looks like she wants to cry, and that makes him feel even guiltier.

"I… just want you to understand that it's alright if you're under the weather, sometimes. It happens to us all, and while I know you've always wanted everything to be perfect for us all, it's also okay to mess up. I've done so before, but you've always forgiven me after scolding me, so why can't you forgive yourself, Iori?"

The tears are back, his vision blurs, and he clutches her against his chest before she can see it, arms wrapping around her like he won't ever see this warm smile of her again.

"It's… It'll be fine. Give yourself time and peace of mind, vent to us if you have to. We don't hate you. Ainana isn't Ainana if you're not with us, so lean on us from now on, okay?"

"I…"

No. Yes. No, you shouldn't give in. Yes, she's right, it's useless to cry over it and not do anything about. No, you don't deserve the happiness she brings you. Yes, you deserve a second chance, a means to save everything from rotting.

"I'll try…"

He lets go of their weird embrace, admiring her slightly comforted features before she has to go back to her regular life. She's red all over, but his own face is burning, so he doesn't dare comment on that, even to tease her. He wishes he could, but it doesn't come to her; and even if he already misses her gentle warmth, he knows she's needed somewhere else, so it's the least he can do to see her fly away. She's beautiful either way.

Instead, he lets go of some of his guilt as much as possible and focuses on what's to come, with the bitterness of their aborted debut remaining in the back of his throat despite the honey. Only time will tell, sadly so he lies back down and lets his eyes close, as staying awake is only detrimental, today.

He's in a bad phase, right?


End file.
